


Roses Are Red

by ikeracity



Series: The Associates [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Car Sex, Erik Being Cocky, Fingerfucking, M/M, Professor Charles is Taken Out for a Day By his Mob Boss Boyfriend, Riding, Rimming, Valentine's Day, ride hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/pseuds/ikeracity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a mob boss' associate has its ups and downs. Having sex in the back of a limo on Valentine's Day is definitely one of the ups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses Are Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pangea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangea/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Roses Are Red红玫瑰如你](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954839) by [Glacier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacier/pseuds/Glacier)



> Happy Valentine's Day, fry!!! I'm only 52 minutes late according to my clock. Enjoy my attempt at smut.

The way Charles sees it, there are three rules to their arrangement.

One: Erik stays off of campus.

Two: Erik stays _off of campus._

Three: _Erik keeps himself and his minions off of the fucking campus._

The way Erik sees it, apparently, is that there is only one rule to their arrangement, and that is rule is this: there are no rules.

That explains why his face has suddenly appeared in the narrow window on the door of Charles’ lecture hall, and why he’s waving for Charles to come out with a look of imperious boredom on his face. Charles wants to ignore him, or maybe stride out and punch him, or perhaps both.

On further consideration, he can’t do both.

 _Come out,_ Erik says, his mental voice like a shout through a megaphone. He’s like a broken radio that only has two settings: loud and louder. His previous resident telepath Ms. Emma Frost, who’s now running freelance operations somewhere in Colombia for one of Erik’s rivals, much to Erik’s chagrin, had never taught him to project clearly and properly. Maybe, Charles thinks as he steadfastly ignores Erik’s pointing, he should have taken some time to give Erik a couple of pointers.

“The G-protein receptors,” he continues, “are transmembrane receptors, which, remember, means that they pass through the cell membrane, unlike peripheral receptors which are simply—”

 _Come out,_ Erik says again, deafeningly. _Or I’ll knock._

 _Don’t you **dare**_ **,** Charles says sharply, buffeting him with a burst of annoyance. _Give me a minute. Go wait in my office—it’s down the hall to the left, A128._

“Sorry,” he says aloud, setting his laser pointer down. “I’m not feeling that well. Let’s let out early today, shall we?”

His students don’t even pause; they’re packed up in under ten seconds and hurrying out the door, chattering with each other as they go. Only a few of the sleepier kids linger around, lethargically putting away their pencils, and Charles waits until they’re out the door, too, before picking up his own things and slipping out the door after them.

He scans his surroundings mentally before making his way to his office. He’d locked the door before going to class but of course Erik’s made short work of it, and he finds the man inside, settled annoyingly in Charles’ comfortable leather armchair behind the desk.

“We agreed,” Charles says irritably, tossing his lecture notes onto the edge of the table and then shifting a pile of folders over so he can put his satchel down. “We agreed you’d never set foot on campus, or interact in any way with anyone from my life. If you have a favor to ask of me, you text me and I come to you, remember?”

Erik shrugs, maddeningly unperturbed by Charles’ frustration. “This was quicker.”

“ _Quick—”_ Charles takes a breath. “You can be a real ass sometimes, did you know that? Most of the time, actually.”

Erik gives him a smile, which is more accurately described as a slow, predatory reveal of teeth. “What can I say? You’re my favorite employee.”

“I’m not your employee,” Charles tells him, rolling his eyes. “You keep calling me that and you can consider our deal revoked.”

Erik gets up, rounds the desk, and wraps his arms around Charles from behind, his long legs bracketing Charles against the desk’s edge. “You’re my favorite telepath then, is that better?” he whispers right up against Charles’ skin.

Despite himself, Charles shivers. “If you interrupted my class for sex,” he says steadily, “you’re going to spend the rest of the day making daisy chains and singing Disney songs.”

Erik’s amusement is palpable. “So harsh. I don’t pay you to mouth off to me like that.”

“You don’t pay me at all,” Charles reminds him.

“There’s that,” Erik agrees, a sharp grin in his voice, and Charles sighs. That’s the thing about being associated with a man who owns almost the entire city; Erik’s so infuriatingly _entitled_ all the time, about everything.

“What’s this about?” he asks, trying to pull free of Erik’s arms. “Is there a job?”

“No job.”

“There’s a new mutant you want me to talk to then?”

“No, no one new.”

“Then what?”

Erik bites his earlobe. _It’s Valentine’s Day and I thought I would take my favorite telepath out for a day trip._

Charles winces and pushes back against him. “Get off me. I’m going to seriously need to teach you one day how to communicate mind-to-mind without giving me a migraine. And you can’t just take me out for a _day trip_ without giving me prior notice. I have a day job, Erik, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ve got _classes_.”

Erik shrugs again. “Call in sick. Cancel them. I don’t care. Just come out with me.”

“I can’t just do that, I’ve got responsibilities—”

“Charles.” Erik’s voice is suddenly steel, the sort of sharpness that cuts like glass across an open palm. This is the voice he uses on his “business partners.” This is the voice he used on Sebastian Shaw before he put a bullet in Shaw’s leg and tossed him out into the streets.

Erik is dangerous. There isn’t any forgetting that. Among the halls of the sciences building, he seems merely out of place and strange, but Charles knows what Erik looks like in his own territory, in his kingdom. He knows the gun callouses of Erik’s hands.

But if there’s one thing Erik needs reminding of from time to time, it’s that Charles is not a fan of being ordered around in that voice, as if he’s one of Erik’s bodyguards or a street informant that Erik wouldn’t look twice at. Telepaths, after all, are quite dangerous themselves, when they have a mind to be.

“Erik,” he returns coolly. “You broke the only stipulation I had of our agreement. Excuse me if I’m not feeling particularly inclined to run off on a romantic dinner with you.”

Just like that, the hard look in Erik’s eyes dissipates and he almost smiles. “You’re impossible. I don’t know why I took you on in the first place.”

“First of all,” Charles points out, “ _you_ came to _me_. Second of all, if we’re going to skip class for Valentine’s Day, you’d best be taking me on the best date of my life.”

Erik’s almost-smile turns into a real one. “You’ll come?”

“I only have two more classes today anyway,” Charles huffs. “And I don’t see you leaving me alone anytime soon.”

“Probably not,” Erik agrees cheerily, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He’s wearing a form-fitting suit as usual, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders to the slim taper of his waist. Unfair really, Charles thinks to himself as he sits down behind his desk to compose an email to cancel class. How can anyone say no to Erik when he’s dressed like that?

Once he’s fired off the email, he collects his satchel and keys. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“A good attitude,” Erik replies, gallantly opening the door for him.

“Ha ha,” Charles grumbles. “There had better be alcohol.”

They manage to sneak out of the building without encountering anyone Charles knows and make it to the parking lot, where Erik points across the way. “There’s our ride.”

Charles blinks. “You brought the _limo?”_ he hisses. “You know, for a man who’s got half the city running scared, you’re really very awful at this incognito business.”

Erik arches an eyebrow. “ _Half_ the city? You don’t give me nearly enough credit. And who said I wanted to go incognito anyway?”

Charles stifles a groan and leads the way across the parking lot, dodging behind taller cars when he can. “The agreement was, you don’t interfere with my life. Remember that, Erik? _No one_ knows I’m associated with you. No one even _suspects_ I’ve got anything to do with the Brotherhood, no one—”

“Get in the car,” Erik says, opening the door with a wave of his hand and shoving Charles into the backseat. He climbs in directly after and shuts the door.

The partition rolls down slowly. “Where to?” Janos asks from the driver’s seat.

“The docks,” Erik orders. “And Janos? Drive slowly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once the partition is back up, Erik leans over and kisses him soundly. For a second, Charles grumpily resists him. But Erik’s quite insistent and the things he does with his tongue are quite irresistible, so Charles opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, and then he climbs across until he’s practically in Erik’s lap, Erik’s warm lips and body warding off the lingering briskness from the air outside.

“Did you tell Janos to drive slowly for the reason I think you did?” Charles breathes between kisses.

Erik laves his tongue gently across Charles’ earlobe. “Probably.”

“So you _did_ interrupt my class for sex.”

“We’re going to lunch,” Erik says, kissing his way down Charles’ neck. “If sex happens along the way, I’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“Insufferable,” Charles mutters as he tilts his head back to provide Erik with greater access. As Erik continues, he unbuttons his coat slowly and sheds it somewhere on the car floor. If they get any mess on it, he’ll have to dry clean it _again_ (the last time having been a memorable night in no fewer than four rooms of one of Erik’s many safe houses scattered throughout the city), but it’s Valentine’s Day. He supposes he can foot the bill.

Around his suit, Erik’s wearing his ridiculous fur coat that screams _mob boss_ and Charles tugs at it because it’s standing between him and a naked Erik, but Erik locks his gloved fingers around Charles’ wrists and pulls his hands down to his side.

 _Are we playing this game today then?_ Charles asks, arching an eyebrow.

_What game?_

_The one where I lie back passively and you ravish my virginal body like the horny devil you are._

“You,” Erik laughs between kisses, “are the farthest thing from passive or virginal I have ever seen. And let’s not pretend I’m the only one who wants this.”

He releases one of Charles’ wrists and presses the heel of his palm against Charles’ groin, where his cock is already beginning to take an interest in the proceedings. Charles arches up into the touch, any lingering disgruntlement vanishing at the steady pressure of Erik’s hand sweeping down his thigh. When Erik starts to unzip his slacks with a casual flick of his fingers, Charles is increasingly glad he went along with cancelling class; sex in the back of a limo is much more interesting than lecturing to seventy bored students anyway.

Together, they manage to strip off Charles’ slacks and underwear, flinging them onto his coat. Then Erik pushes Charles back until he’s lying down on the long leather limo seat, naked from his waist down. Erik’s still fully dressed, the jerk.

“You joining me?” Charles asks, loosening his tie.

“No.” Erik’s gloved hand traces down Charles’ pale thigh to his knee. “I’m enjoying the view from here.” When Charles skims into his mind, he sees himself sprawled on the limo seat, hair rumpled, face flushed, hardening cock just visible under the hem of his shirt. A shudder of lust runs through them, and Charles isn’t sure if that was Erik’s reaction or his. Probably both.

Erik leans down to kiss his calf, then his knee, then high up on his thigh. Then his hand dips down between Charles’ legs into the cleft of his ass and Charles lets out a sharp breath as Erik pushes his knees apart and slides one gloved finger just over Charles’ hole.

“Tell me you have lube,” Charles groans.

“I have my tongue,” Erik says swaggeringly, and before Charles can respond, Erik shimmies back so that he can duck down between Charles’ spread legs and lick a long line from the base of Charles’ cock to the tip.

“Oh Jesus.” Charles flails for something to hold onto and comes up short. Finally he just reaches down to fist his hands in the fringe of Erik’s fur coat. “ _Erik_.”

“Mm?” Erik replies indistinctly, pushing Charles’ ass up to get further down toward his hole. He continues to lick maddeningly around the base of Charles’ cock until it’s fully hard and leaking, until Charles is on the verge of gasping out a needy _please_.

“Turn over,” Erik orders.

“What?”

“Turn over so I lick you out.”

Charles shudders and nearly knees Erik in the jaw as he obeys. It takes a moment for them to arrange themselves satisfactorily in the cramped space, but eventually Charles is on his knees and elbows on the seat, swaying slightly with the car’s momentum, and Erik is behind him, gloved fingers stealing up Charles’ back under his shirt.

“You know if Janos makes any sudden stops we’re going to go flying,” Charles says pragmatically as Erik reaches around under his shirt to ghost the pads of his leather-clad fingers over Charles’ nipples.

“Then he’s fired,” Erik answers, undeterred. He withdraws his hand and reaches for one of the side compartments. After a bit of rummaging, he comes up with a half-empty bottle of lube and pops the cap.

“Aren’t you going to take your gloves off?” Charles asks, watching him over his shoulder.

“No.”

Charles frowns. “No?”

Erik squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and then lays his free hand on Charles’ ass, spreading his cheeks and slipping his coated fingers between them. “No,” he repeats, and Charles actually lets out a whimper at the cool touch on his heated skin. He smothers the sound into his sleeve but Erik still hears it, and Charles can _feel_ his smirk, the smug bastard.  

“Well?” Charles pants, trying to recover some of his dignity. “Get on with—”

His sentence ends in a veritable yelp as Erik’s tongue presses in next to his fingers and laves right up against his hole. Erik’s clean hand grips Charles’ left thigh to keep him from jerking away, and his other hand teases around Charles’ balls up to his leaking cock, his every touch far too light to satisfy. Not wanting to give Erik the gratification of hearing the effect Erik has on him, Charles bites his lip and forces himself to hold perfectly still, forces himself not to push back onto Erik’s tongue or his fingers. He pants wetly against the leather, his face pressed down against the seat and his spine arched up for Erik to reach his ass.

 _You could probably come from this,_ Erik comments thunderously.

 _I probably could,_ Charles replies with a grimace, _if you weren’t screaming in my head._

_Don’t lie. You can’t get enough of my voice._

“I really will need to teach you how to project properly one of these days,” Charles huffs. At that, Erik leans back, but before Charles can protest the loss of his tongue, his lubed finger replaces it.

“Relax for me, darling,” Erik says.

“Since when do you call me endearme—oh, _fuck._ ”

He grits his teeth and clenches his fists fruitlessly around nothing when the tip of Erik’s gloved finger pushes into him, slowly and steadily. The blunt pressure straddles the line between pain and pleasure, and for a moment, Charles teeters on the edge, unsure which side the experience will fall on. The glove is coarser than Erik’s bare fingers, yes, but it’s tightly-fitted and only a little thicker than usual. After a few moments, the new texture begins to feel merely uncomfortable rather than painful.

“Alright?” Erik asks softly, his other hand on the small of Charles’ back to brace him.

Charles makes a noncommittal noise and breathes for a moment, trying to decide. Eventually, he says, “I can’t tell. Keep going and we’ll see.”

Erik pushes his finger in deeper, deeper, until the other four fingers of his hand are splayed out across Charles’ ass. When Charles nods, Erik begins to thrust his finger in and out slowly, the drag of the leather at first strange, then more comfortable, and then finally pleasurable. His forehead pressed against the seat, Charles squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the sensation, on the sparks of pleasure that are beginning to dance up his spine. Erik’s own arousal swirls around through his mind like a restless sea, and when Charles reaches out to touch it, he groans through his teeth at the sheer lust in Erik’s eyes, at how _hard_ he’s made Erik without even touching him. Only an enormous amount of self-restraint keeps Erik from unzipping his own pants and drawing out his cock. The fact that Erik is holding himself back makes Charles’ heart pound with excitement; it means Erik has bigger plans for them than this.

A second finger nudges in beside the first and this one takes a little more time to work into him, even with the extra lube that Erik squeezes onto his hand. But once he has them both in, they slide easily enough, and before long, he has Charles moaning softly and pushing back against his hand. His cock hangs hard between his legs and leaks some precome onto his shirt and onto the seat beneath him. Charles wants to reach down to touch himself, but he’s already balanced precariously and with the car moving, he’s afraid he’ll topple right off the seat if he takes away the support of one arm. So there’s nothing to do but kneel there and let Erik play with him as he pleases, slow and deep.

Eventually, he gets impatient and wriggles back against Erik’s gloved hand. “Are you going to fuck me then or just finger me to death?”

“Hopefully not to death,” Erik says dryly, but he pulls his fingers out all the same and sits down. Charles hears the sound of a zipper pulling down and straightens as Erik pushes his pants and underwear down to his thighs and then raises his eyebrow expectantly.

“Well?” he says when Charles doesn’t move. “Climb on.” At Charles’ flat look, he adds, “Please?”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Well since you asked so nicely…”

He picks up the lube and liberally coats Erik’s cock, viscerally satisfied when Erik’s breath grows audibly shorter and his hips stutter toward Charles’ touch. He’s hardly as unaffected as he likes to pretend, and the way his eyes fix themselves unwaveringly on Charles’ every movement is a testament to that. His arousal flares when Charles swings his legs apart to straddle him, and Charles lets Erik’s erection slide past the cleft of his ass a few times, leaving smears of precome along his skin. Finally, Erik grips his hips tightly and grits out, “Please. Charles,” and Charles smiles sweetly at him and reaches between his legs to guide Erik’s cock home.

The first push in makes both of them gasp, and Charles hovers there for a moment to adjust. But then the car brakes a little unevenly, throwing them both forward and pushing Erik all the way into Charles with an abruptness that tears a loud moan from Charles’ throat. Erik clutches him close and breathes heavily against his chest, pleasure at Charles’ tight heat rebounding through his mind like bullet ricocheting around metal walls.

“You okay?” he says when they’ve both caught their breaths a bit.

“Mm.” Charles pulls up experimentally and then sinks all the way back down. The stretch isn’t entirely good, but any hint of pain is rapidly fading as Charles steadies himself with his knees pressed to either side of Erik’s hips. After another moment, he raises himself up and clenches as he pushes down, and Erik groans aloud, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tilts his head back against the headrest, his eyes riveted on Charles’ open mouth.

This time, Charles is the one who smirks. “You okay?”

“Move,” Erik pants. “Move.”

Charles pulls up again and eases back down slowly, admiring the starburst pattern of pleasure that burns through Erik’s mind. He finds a rhythm and keeps to it, watching as Erik slowly falls apart underneath him, watching Erik’s pleasure-glazed eyes as the flood of sensations washes over them both. Erik’s left hand grips Charles’ waist tightly to steady him, and his other hand steals up Charles’ shirt and brushes over his nipple, the leather rough and delicious against his skin. Charles grinds down against him and moans quietly, caught between the dual pleasures of having Erik’s cock buried so deep within him and Erik’s touch roaming over his chest. Then Erik leans forward and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Charles’ belly and scrapes his teeth over his ribs, and Charles shudders in his arms, his own cock twitching where it lays against Erik’s shirt, staining it with precome.

“Come on,” Erik breathes into his skin. His hips rock up against Charles’ ass, driving his length deeper. “Come on, liebling, come on.”

Charles wants to tease him for his impatience, but he’s too busy chasing his own climax to bother. He slams down on Erik faster, pleasure beginning to tighten in his groin, and his breath starts to come in little hitching gasps, matching Erik’s own. When he puts his hand against Erik’s chest to steady himself, he can feel Erik’s racing heartbeat, pounding like a timpani trapped in his ribs. Erik gasps out a moan and pulls Charles down for a bruising kiss, arching up to drive into Charles as Charles sinks down, and the combined movement sends Erik flying over the edge, his shout muffled into Charles’ mouth. Almost a second too late, Charles wraps his mind around Erik’s and rides the crest of pleasure over into his own orgasm, his cock jerking hard against Erik’s stomach, splattering come all over his immaculate dress shirt and the bottom of his maroon tie.

For a long couple of minutes afterwards, they just sit there, Charles slumped over in Erik’s lap, Erik’s arms wrapped around Charles’ back to pull him close. They sway left as the car takes a right, then again, then a third time. The only sound that passes between them is harsh panting. Still sunk in Erik’s mind as he is, Charles can feel the rising wave of Erik’s affection, the sort of fondness that always seems to make itself known post-coital. Erik never admits to any feelings aloud, but this, after sharing their bodies like that, that’s as close as Erik ever gets to a confession and Charles doesn’t need anything more.

After the fourth right in a row, Charles raises his head from Erik’s shoulder and blinks at the window. “Are we driving in circles?”

Erik laughs breathlessly, his gloved hand stroking a line down Charles’ thigh, leaving a faint trail of lube. “Janos gets a raise. Maybe two.”

Charles laughs, too, and then gently eases off Erik’s lap. When Erik’s cock slides from his ass, a trickle of come runs down his inner thigh and drips onto the leather seat.

“Which of your minions has the misfortune of cleaning out the limo?” he asks wryly as he reaches for the handkerchief he knows Erik always carries in his right pocket. Folding it in half, he wipes the semen from his leg and ass and then wipes the seat, too, for good measure.

“Mm,” Erik says contemplatively, unlooping his tie and using it to wipe come and lube off his cock. “Alex.”

Charles laughs. “You’re much too hard on that boy.”

“I try to be,” Erik replies, unconcerned. Stripping off his gloves, he drops them and his tie on the floor and tucks himself back into his pants. Then he leans over to pick up Charles’ pants off the floor and hands them over.

After a bit of awkward maneuvering, they’re fully-dressed again and mostly presentable. Erik’s collar hangs open without the tie, and Charles leans over to press a kiss against his throat. Before he can pull away, Erik catches his shoulder and draws him up to slot their mouths together, his tongue sliding wetly along the line of Charles’ lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says.

“I never took you for a romantic,” Charles remarks. His cheeks pink at the thought that Erik—serious, focused, often-histrionic Erik who hates any sort of emotion almost on principle—has taken an entire day off of his criminal enterprise to take Charles out on a _date_. How ridiculously sentimental.

Erik just grins and laces his fingers through Charles’. “Wait until you see the yacht.”  

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover art for "Roses Are Red"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615371) by [avictoriangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avictoriangirl/pseuds/avictoriangirl)




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